


Tango

by Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, assassins!FitzSimmons, implied bi!FitzSimmons, implied established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4148004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was meant to be a black and white only affair. </p><p>Of course, she'd worn red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tango

It was meant to be a black and white only affair.

Of course, she’d worn red.

Leo Fitz couldn’t help but grin as he watched her in the mirror behind the bar, her head tipped back as she laughed at some inane joke. His partner was beautiful, and she knew it; wearing red had only been to increase the difficulty of their assignment. Everything about her gown drew attention to her, from the scoop neck of the lace bodice that provided more than a hint of her figure, to the downright scandalous open back. She caught his eye in the mirror, and grinned as she turned around, causing him to nearly choke on his scotch.

He bit his lip as he swallowed, and took a moment to contemplate exactly how many kisses he’d lay along her spine when they were alone later tonight, their job handled and the subject tucked away.   

And the subject would be tucked away soon; that’s what he’d seen in her smile. Where everyone else saw a frivolous woman drinking and flirting while her husband was across the room at the bar, he’d seen the signal. She had their in. He swigged the last of his drink, and setting it on the polished wood counter with a soft clink, turned on a heel to track her down.

~*~

She’d worn this dress knowing it was one of his favorites.

The added challenge to their mission was just a bonus.

Jemma Simmons liked a bit of a challenge. As of late, their work had become somewhat stagnant, and what had once been thrilling was starting to weigh her down with tedium, and so she took matters into her own hands. Their work demanded that they blend in, become a part of the crowd, and carry out their assignments without creating a stir… but she felt good in this dress,  beautiful and debilitating all at once. It had made it worth the looks she’d received at the door when they’d entered.

Fitz found her just as the orchestra struck up a tango, and she easily slid into his arms. It had surprised her the first time he’d taken her dancing that he was such an accomplished ballroom dancer, and even in the moment he was able to easily lead her through a tango, his hips guiding her as they whispered to each other.

“Foun’ him?” he murmured against her ear, his hand drifting low to tease the scalloped edges of lace that sat just above the swell of her arse.

She sucked in a breath, the air hissing past her lips, before she was able to answer him. “Yes, I did. He’s at your four, near the entrance to the balcony.” She could feel Fitz’ attention shift, his chin pressing a bit more firmly against her cheek as he cut his eyes  to where she’d directed. “The man with the salt and pepper hair, taller, a bit barrel chested.”

Jemma felt Fitz tense against her, and pressed a reassuring kiss to his cheek just near his ear, knowing he’d spotted him. Their assignment was powerfully built, an intimidating man to be sure, but he wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. They’d certainly handled worse.

“Any thoughts on how ye’d like t’ proceed?” His hand slipped down her hip to her knee, pulling her tightly against him as she curled it over his hip. His movement brushed against her garter, causing her to shiver just a bit. It really wasn’t fair how easily he could effect her with a few small gestures.

The question was a standard one, and it showed in the practiced way Fitz asked it. Jemma couldn’t help but grin, knowing just how much her response was likely to please him.

“Honestly, he’s the curious sort…” she pulled back to look him squarely in the eye, a small smile playing about her lips as his own eyes lit up with the realization.

“Take me over an’ introduce us,” Fitz insisted, his tone taking on the low, pleasant tone that made Jemma shiver in anticipation. She did as he asked, introducing him to the barrel chested man.

After twenty minutes of exchanging pleasantries, the three of them slipped out of the ballroom and made their way upstairs.

~*~

“Well, that was rather short lived.”

Fitz tore his eyes from the lifeless form of Fernando Sebastián de la Cruz to glance at his partner, now stripped of her ball gown and standing in naught but her knickers, hose, and garter belt. Jemma’s hands were on her hips, her head tilted as if she were trying to figure out a particularly complex equation. He arched a brow at her in response, unable to hide his amusement at her apparent befuddlement.

“An’ who’s faul’ is tha’, exactly?” he asked as he began to strip the corpse of its clothing. It was important to work quickly; they only had so much time to stage the scene. “I’m no’ th’ poison exper’, now am I?”

Jemma clucked her tongue at him even as she came over to help. “It shouldn’t have worked that quickly,” she insisted as she glanced over the body. “He must have had a weaker heart than I’d anticipated.”

Fitz chuckled, sliding the covers up over de la Cruz’ cooling body. “T’ be fair, Jemma, watchin’ ye strip down woul’ be enough t’ give a normal man a heart attack. Wit’ the poison in his system… poor bastard didnae stan’ a chance.” He stepped away to find her dress, and walked it over to her, his eyes raking over her form appreciatively.

~*~

He worked hard to keep his tone neutral, but to Jemma, who knew him so intimately, the hint of jealousy was as plain as the nose on his face. She was suddenly glad she’d had Fitz help her put on a show for de la Cruz, stripping her slowly while having the other man watch. If she’d allowed the Spaniard to touch her, or even worse, had gone in without Fitz, things would not have gone according to plan. She had an inkling that her partner would have shot their target without hesitation.

Not even the Guardia Civil would mistake a bullet between the eyes as an accidental death.

She raised herself up on tip toe to press a soft, sweet kiss to his bottom lip before drawing back to grin at him. Jemma reached for her dress, adrenaline from a job well done still coursing through her system, and slithered back into it as Fitz watched her.

Once she was presentable, she slipped her hand into his and tugged him toward the door. She peeked her head out, and once she was satisfied no one else was coming, pulled him across the threshold with her. If their information was good (and it always was), de la Cruz’ bodyguards would check on him in two hours, which was more than enough time for them to slip out of Barcelona, leaving none the wiser about what had actually happened here.

They slinked down the hall, hand in hand, looking for all the world to be a young couple in love, although Fitz still had a slightly put out look on his face. Jemma sighed as they stepped into the lift, and wrapped an arm about his waist as the doors closed, tucking herself into his side.

 **  
** “I promise, Leo,” she whispered against the skin of his cheek, “you can plan how we do the next one. **”**

**Author's Note:**

> Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU drabble featuring FitzSimmons as highly-skilled killers for hire.


End file.
